


Twenty - Three

by notjustmom



Series: The Boys in Sussex [24]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, F/M, M/M, Retirement, Sussex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-20 06:59:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom





	1. Chapter 1

3 September

The farm is abuzz, literally and figuratively. I think if we have a mild winter, Sherlock's bees will make it to spring - do you remember that year...

Oh, and Greg and Molly are arriving tomorrow, their boxes have been arriving the last few days, and Sherlock is - I imagine this is what he was like on a case, no - that's not quite - probably what he was like the day he married John. I wish I had been there...

 

"John!"

"Uhmmhmm?"

"I've got an idea!"

John looked up from his book and tried to stifle a yawn. "How to save the world? End starvation?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and slid from his perch on his chair, then plucked John's book from his hands and climbed into his lap. "I'm sorry - I've just been -"

"Up for nearly a day and a half." John sighed and closed his eyes as Sherlock laid his head against his shoulder. "I know you are excited about them arriving tomorrow, love - how do you even fit? I've never understood how you can - no - don't go to sleep - Sherlock - damn." He shrugged and retrieved his book as Sherlock snored gently.

Grace walked into the room and yawned. "Oh, John. How long - I hope -"

"Only a couple of minutes -"

"Is this what he was like? Back when -"

John nodded at Sherlock's chair and she sank into it carefully. "Yeah, except sometimes he would just fall over, at least now he usually makes it to bed, or on me." He grinned at her as he closed the book again and waited.

"Did you ever - what did you think you would -" Grace began, then stopped.

"What? What did I think I would be doing when I 'grew up'?" John laughed, then glanced down at Sherlock and brushed a curl from his face, then looked up to meet Grace's eyes. "My life - I had plans. At one point. I had trained to be a surgeon, I was a good one, too. But I joined the military because I wanted to do some 'good.' He shrugged and muttered to himself, "I don't even know - and then, everything stopped. Everything I thought I was - it was gone. All I was left with was a tiny pension, an awful bedsit - you couldn't even call it that, and a lot of anger and self-pity. Honestly, everything in my adult life can be separated into before I met Sherlock and afterwards. There were days when I didn't think we'd survive another week together... the blog is - a bit censored is the word, I suppose - the first couple of months were insane, but I thought - after a while, I couldn't see myself anywhere else - I dated - because I didn't think, I thought he didn't - I can't imagine how I hurt him without even knowing - he never... and then he was gone. And then I had to -"

"Sorry - I didn't mean to -"

John shrugged. "If you're asking if I thought this is where I'd be, now? No. I'd have to say, no. I never thought he would want this kind of life, I honestly never expected us to - I never expected him to see forty. I guess, if I hadn't met him, I wouldn't have either." He studied his mother's face for a moment. He was still trying to learn her tells, what was going through her mind - and laughed quietly as he suddenly understood what Sherlock must have felt when trying to deduce John beyond the external clues. "I can't tell what you are thinking or feeling from your face, and I just realized what Sherlock must have gone through, trying to understand me. I always said he had a look when he knew something I didn't, and he assumed because he knew something that I must - he sometimes - usually gave me too much credit. But he couldn't tell - he didn't know I loved him until I tried to stop him from jumping, and then, he - when he returned - damn."

"What?" 

John sat quietly for a moment as Sherlock shifted slightly in his arms. "I've never - you should have been a therapist. I don't usually -"

"I've had a long time - I've spent most of my life alone, outside of work, there was no one I talked to really, except the people at the shops, I suppose. I know how to be still and quiet. That's about all I really do know. I would've made a decent cloistered nun. Except for the part of a belief in God, I don't know that I ever believed as a child, but when Emily - once she was gone, I stopped believing in anything. I had always thought, hoped, I guess - for some sort of miracle and she would... recently I've come to believe that my miracle was deferred. I wish I could tell you - I wish you could see - I'm not good at this, John. You two are a miracle, perhaps not a word you are comfortable with? That I get to be here in the one place where I was happy, and know you are happy, and loved, so truly loved and that you know how to love, even after everything - to me that's - damn, It's getting late. They will be here in a few hours. Do you need help -"

John shook his head. "No - I'm fine - thank you, Mum."

"What for?"

"I dunno, exactly, to be honest, but you - for not giving up? You - I think you gave Harry and me that - that stubbornness, I guess you'd have to call it? To just keep going until - "

"You found a reason to stay?"

"Or a reason found me?" John whispered as Sherlock opened his eyes and smiled gently at him.

"Night, boys." Grace quietly left the room and turned out the kitchen light as she went off to bed.

 

4 September

Somehow the boys were up with the sun, Sherlock is already out on Matilda, John is out with Gertrude. It's getting better, Em. I'm trying not to try so hard. We have days when we barely see each other - he's busy on the book - won't show me yet. I have been spending more time getting to know Sherlock these days - he's quite remarkable, and the stories he can tell...


	2. Chapter 2

"Eventually, he will miss it. I think." Molly thought aloud as she added another apple to a rapidly filling basket.

"What about you, do you, miss it, miss London?" John asked as he picked another apple from the tree and handed it to her.

"Hmmm? I don't know. I haven't really had time to miss it, I mean, Anthea's people really did a lot, but I had to close all my cases, babysit my replacement for a few shifts, and pack up everything. I didn't realise just how much stuff we had, we haven't been together that long, but - "

"Yeah, I know - it took us a good month to get everything boxed up, and our things had time to merge, not that it mattered whose was what, really, but if I tried to get rid of something, I had to make sure it was actually mine to get rid of - what the hell are we going to do with all these apples? I didn't know, just how many -"

"Hmm, I could start canning, or something -"

John looked at her curiously. "You know how to can?"

"No. But surely, there are books? YouTube?"

John laughed out loud and put down the basket; then wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so glad you guys are here. I hope - this is what you want."

Molly nodded against his shoulder. "It's - you know - when we got back to London, after a couple of days, I realized - he no longer belonged there. Even his suits no longer fit him, of course, that could have been a direct result of too many of Gladys' teas, but..."

"Yeah."

"I want Munchkin to grow up here, to know her dad - if we had stayed there, there was always the possibility - you know - and even if nothing happened to him, she wouldn't know him, he'd never be home, and - it's what's best for him, for us." Molly pulled back a bit and smiled at him. "And, yes, it's what I want. I never thought I would have this, a family. I always thought I'd end up a crazy cat lady, work in the morgue til they carried me out - but now -" She turned and looked out into the fields. "Look, John - look out there - I live in a beautiful place, I get to see the seasons change, instead of working on corpses in a cement basement. I can actually sit and think or do nothing - that isn't so easy - I'm still learning that it's okay. And I am loved, John - it's still unreal - the way he looks at me, it's -"

John nodded and draped an arm around her shoulder. "I know." They stood quietly together and watched Greg and Sherlock cross the pasture together towards them with Gertrude at their heels. "It's all good."

 

"Do you miss it?"

Greg shook his head. "Nah. I miss my team, but I don't miss the work, the ugly parts - when I started, back in the dark ages, I thought I could make a difference, that's why I stayed on the street so long. I knew once I made Detective I'd mostly be doing paper work and toeing the line - politics -" He shrugged and picked up a stick, tossing it for Gertrude who bounded after it, then dropped it at his feet. "Good girl, Gert." He bent down and scratched between her ears. "Donovan's going to be great, better than I was, because she - it's her life. All she wants to be is a cop. She made mistakes with you, and she's finally learned from that - she knows she needs to play well with others, and she's going to be a good leader, she listens - I watched the team, and they know they can trust her already, just saw how they listened and she treated them. And she has a good sized ego - that helps. She told me - after she came here that she understood. Meant a lot - I think some people think I lost it, you know?" Greg sat down in the grass and squinted up at Sherlock. "Maybe I did. But isn't that when it's time to get out?"

Sherlock dropped down next to him. "I tried to keep going - I kept taking cases even when I knew it wasn't what I wanted anymore."

"Why?"

"I didn't know why John was still with me. I thought if I stopped -"

"You thought he'd leave?"

Sherlock shrugged and was silent for a few minutes. "I was afraid to ask him. I think if I had, if we had talked sooner about everything, I could have, we could have avoided so much, I don't know, drama?"

Greg nodded and stared up into the cloudless sky.

"I thought, if I just kept doing it, I'd start feeling the same way again - that I needed it. I could still do it, I was even better in some ways - and then Garridebs - I didn't do enough, I don't know, research - I didn't even check Evans out. I treated it like a joke, Greg, thought it would make a funny postscript for us..." He turned and gazed at where John and Molly were picking apples. "I - watched him die, Greg. Really die. That did it - if he hadn't..."

"But he did. He's here, Sherlock. He's where he wants to be now, with you. Things happen? I know it's a cliché, when they are supposed to happen sometimes. It took me way too long to let Molly know how I felt. I just wasn't ready. Don't know why - thought I wasn't, dunno, enough. I didn't want to be in another relationship - I thought it was me." He paused for a moment and took a breath. "But when I saw you with John, not knowing if he was going to wake up, and I knew how both of you felt... We had been dating, sort of. I would bring her dinner when she had late shifts, we'd go to see movies, hang out - our schedules were so crazy. That day - that morning when you told me he was awake, I ran over to the morgue - and I told her. How I felt about her. I wasn't afraid anymore."

"It's almost time for elevenses," Sherlock got to his feet, slowly, then offered Greg his hand and helped him to his feet. "We've got that bench to build for the garden, maybe we can start when we get back?"

"Yeah. Sounds good." 

Sherlock whistled for Gertrude and she came flying up the hill. 

"How old is she, anyway?" Greg asked with a chuckle.

"Z thinks she's twelve - I think - I dunno, she's a lot like Z and Gladys - timeless. Time just doesn't work the same way here. No other way to explain it." Sherlock shrugged and grinned at his friend. "Race you back to the house?" And he was off like a shot, with Gertrude close behind him.

"Damn it, Sherlock." Greg shook his head, but laughed and gave chase.

 

10 September

The house is full, Em, but it's different than it was back then, not sure how to explain it - the house is alive, and happy. I keep learning what that means. I didn't know before. Howard is coming to play tonight, Sherlock is nervous. It's so funny to see him fussing, he's been practicing for a week... Molly and I are starting to can some of the apples. I had forgotten, so many apples - I don't even know how the trees are still going, we took a basket over to Gladys today... Z is starting to look old. But, he laughs, Em, he's so happy. That word again. Didn't think I'd ever know, since you. Miss you, sweet.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're quiet tonight." John mumbled against Sherlock's chest.

"Hmm. I was talking to Greg this morning - I hadn't thought, really why I was still taking cases after Mary, after you came back. But when he -he worried that people thought he had lost his mind when he retired as he did; he was done and he stopped, that was it. I told him I kept taking cases even when I didn't want to do it anymore, and he asked me why." He sighed as John sat up and looked at him.

"Why did you?" John asked him quietly.

"I wanted you to stay. Molly kept telling me you stayed because you wanted to, Greg would roll his eyes when I asked him - they knew why you were still there. I didn't. I didn't know, John. Until - " Sherlock closed his eyes. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and whispered, "why do you love me? What made you - what makes you stay with me? Hell. Sorry. Forget I asked. I'm just exhausted and you know my mouth keeps working even when -"

"I love how you look at me, and how your nose crinkles when you are trying to figure something out. I love your freckles. Each and very one of them. I love your stubbornness, your impatience with ignorance, your ability to forgive, even when - most people - no one else - you found a way to. I don't know that I'll ever quite understand how you - I love the way you love - not just me, how you love Z and Gladys, and Molly and Greg - even the way you love your brother, how you love my mum as if she were your own. And yes, I love how you touch me, no one else has ever made me feel like I am the most precious thing in the world. When we make love - I know - I know how much you love me and care for me -"

Sherlock sat up and searched his face, then nodded as he held John's face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I -"

"Shh. I love you, because you're you. There is no else like you..." John straddled Sherlock's strong legs and smiled at him. "And I have nothing better to do with my time, so - there it is."

Sherlock snorted, then muttered, "arse."

"Uhmmhmm..."

"I do. Love you, John."

"I know, Sherlock." He rocked gently against him until Sherlock closed his eyes and reached for John's hands, threading their fingers together. John whispered, "I always know, my love." He smiled as Sherlock's fingers relaxed and he tumbled into a deep sleep. "I love you, my sweet man." He rolled over and switched off the light, then laid his head on Sherlock's chest and waited for sleep to find him.

 

"Can't sleep?"

John shook his head as he dropped into the chair across from Molly at the kitchen table. "He asked me why I love him."

She reached over and laid her hand over his. "He and Greg worked themselves silly today. Greg was asleep before his head hit the pillow." She sat quietly for a moment, then got up and poured him a mug of tea, placed it in front of him, then sat down again. "Sherlock loves you in ways he doesn't understand. He tried explaining it to me once, a long time ago - back before - after the pool. He knew then, probably knew before then, and it confused him. No, confused is the wrong word. It made him question everything. I tried to tell him, that he could tell you, that it would be okay, but you were dating the teacher, I think?" John nodded and shook his head. "And then Irene happened and Moriarty... he never could work it out how, why he felt the way he did about you, when he had never had feelings like that before, he tried to discount them, until he had to leave. When he asked for my help, he didn't know, John, he just had a feeling - he didn't want to tell you then, in case he didn't make it back, he wanted you to have a life. He didn't understand that was love."

"I had a list ready, Molly, in case he ever asked. And it still - it wasn't enough - it didn't tell him - all I wanted to tell him. I don't think I'll ever be able to tell him everything, and that wouldn't -" He looked up from his mug and rolled his eyes. "What?"

"I'm just glad that - that I was right about you. He deserves that kind of love."

John finished his tea, got up and rinsed out his mug then left it in the sink. He walked over to her and kissed her hair. "Thank you, Moll. Try to get some sleep, yeah?"

"You too."

 

"John?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just needed a cuppa."

"Come back to bed."

"I'm coming, love."


	4. Chapter 4

Harry -

I'm halfway through a first draft. I don't know. It's a bit of a mash up. I want it to be perfect, not sure what that looks like - no. Actually, I do. He'd laugh, but there is nothing I'd change about Sherlock. He's perfect for me. There are days when I just watch him, I'm supposed to be writing, or thinking about writing, and I just stop and drop everything and - I'm ridiculous. I know that, but I have finally realized it doesn't matter, even what I think doesn't matter, it only matters that he knows how much I love him. 

The trees are changing colours, and it's finally cooling down a bit - hope you and Clara can come down soon; Molly is becoming an expert in all things apples...

 

Myc -

Hope you and Alicia are well. It is definitely becoming autumn here, the leaves are changing, the weather is getting cooler, though we still have hot days, the nights smell like autumn. I don't think I've ever really noticed it happening, I was too busy working on a case, or keeping myself busy until the next case, I didn't stop and watch it. John is busy writing; Molly and Greg are settling in, Greg and I have built the bench for the garden, just need to finish it... I want to build a gazebo next, before the weather gets too cold. The shed is fine - while it's still warm enough, I worry about what will happen when it's too cold to work outside. I will probably drive John crazy.

I played with Howard a few nights ago, and realized how long it has been since I played in front of anyone besides John. I was nervous at first, but then he winked at me, and I could breathe...

 

15 September

I'm sitting on the bench Sherlock and Greg built, it's beautiful, I can't wait until the spring, when the flowers come in, it will be so - it will be brilliant, Em. They are onto their next project already, a gazebo. Sherlock showed me the design for it, he wants John to be able to write outside, I think it's also meant to be a place where they can just be on their own. Sherlock blushed when he showed me. He's getting to be quite the draughtsman, and I told him so. He shook his head and muttered, 'It's for John -' I nodded and handed the drawings back to him, and he sat there quietly for a moment, then said, 'you know - everything - he is everything, Grace.' I nodded again and he got up, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and dashed out the door again. I know you are watching over us, love, I just have moments when I miss you so terribly, Em...

 

John laid his pen down and looked across the desk at Sherlock. 

Sherlock glanced up from his writing and smiled at him. "I love you, too." 

"Feel like going for a walk?"

"Yeah, just let me..." Sherlock stopped and put down his pen. "Never mind, it can wait." He got up from his chair and walked over to John. "Sometimes I forget - I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm getting used to you being there, here, with me. You know, I hope you know, how extraordinary it is that I - that we - hell." He rolled his eyes and offered John his hand. "I never want you to think that I take this time, our time together for granted. You must think I'm -"

"What?" John took Sherlock's hand in his, and brought it to his lips.

Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. "Ridiculous. I just find myself -" 

"Stopping everything I'm doing to be near you, because I remember when you weren't with me?"

"Yeah, something like that." Sherlock whispered as he helped John to his feet and held him tightly in his arms. "I didn't - I never knew -"

"I know, love. I know."

"Walk?"

John nodded, then whistled for Gertrude who thundered down the stairs and waited patiently for them as they headed towards the kitchen door and out into the warm autumn night.


	5. Chapter 5

John sighed as he reread the thousands of words he had typed, deleted and retyped over the last few days, then closed his eyes and deleted everything. It was supposed to be a simple story. A simple love story. But, then, he realized, love stories are never simple. He walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter.

"What did you love about Emily?"

Grace stopped and put down the apple she was peeling. "She - we - it was something - there was something in her eyes, that was meant for me, just for me." Molly nodded, and continued slicing apples for the tart they would have for tea. "From the day I met her. I belonged to her, and she knew she belonged to me. That may seem strange, but I think - no, I knew - I was meant to love her as long as - forever. Whatever that means. You mean something tangible?" John nodded. Grace closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and looked at John. "Her sass. Her way of seeing through people. She - to some people, they only saw the gentle, sweet part, she knew some people couldn't handle her - the way she carried her pain, her sense of mortality. She rarely talked about it, except to me and Howie, she let us - she let us carry part of it for her. She - like how you let Sherlock - he knows more about you than anyone else - and he allows you - you know him better than you know yourself, don't you?"

John nodded.

"She loved this farm, and the bees, and she loved me. There were times when I wanted to know what I had done to deserve it, and she would always know, even though I never asked her. She'd sigh and look at me for a long minute, then touch my face and say, 'because you asked me to stay. When you reached for me that first day, and smiled at me, you told me the world was a good place, and you asked me to stay, not in words, it was how you looked at me, I don't know if you understand.' I would nod and then we'd go on doing whatever it was we were doing, as if nothing had been said. I don't know if that means anything."

"He did the same thing," John muttered and shook his head, then got up, and kissed Grace's cheek. "Thanks, Mum."

Grace smiled gently at him, then picked up the apple she had been peeling; Molly went on slicing apples, and John went back to his desk and began typing again.

 

"Has he eaten today?" Sherlock whispered as he entered the kitchen.

Grace nodded. "I put a mug and piece of tart next to his laptop for tea - I don't think he's moved since. You might want to check to see if he's breathing," she whispered back with a grin.

Sherlock turned and watched John from the kitchen doorway. He couldn't recall ever seeing John so focused on - no, yes, he could. He was relieved Grace and Molly couldn't see his face as he closed his eyes.

 

"What?" 

John was leaning on an elbow watching him as Sherlock opened his eyes. 

"Nothing."

"No, what, tell me?"

"I just - still not used to it - I get to see what you are like after a good shagging and a decent night of sleep."

"Just a good shagging?"

John grinned at him and leaned down over him and brushed his lips over his chest -

 

"Hey." John was standing in front of him when he opened his eyes again.

"Done?"

"Yeah, of course, I'll probably hate it tomorrow and delete it all again - but I'll let it stand for now."

"Hungry?"

John shook his head. 

"Upstairs?"

"Please?"

Sherlock smiled down at him and kissed his forehead. "You don't have to ask twice, John."


	6. Chapter 6

Grace was sitting in front of John's laptop not drinking her tea when he came down the stairs."Mum?"

"It's lovely."

"No one was meant to see it - I didn't -"

"I wanted - no - I'm sorry." She started to get up from the chair but John shook his head. "You write - so - you understand... you were so - yesterday, I wanted to read it before you got rid of it. It's beautiful, but it's not - it's for him, for Sherlock."

John nodded. "He asked me, a few days ago, why I loved him, why I stayed, why I stay, and I rattled off a list. The easy bits - I didn't want him to think I had to stop and think of the reasons. But it started the day I met him, like you said, he reached out for me, asked me to stay. Like you - you did for Emily. I let him borrow my mobile, and he put out his hand for it, and I placed it into his hand, and I knew, Mum. Yes, he offered me a flat share, but it was more - than that. It was something I hadn't ever felt -"

 

"time stopped, when our eyes met,  
when our fingers barely touched,  
you didn't flinch,  
but my life had rebooted."

 

John walked over to Sherlock's side of the desk and dropped into his chair. "I was a day, no, if I'm being honest - an hour away from - ending my life. He made me - I was curious, and I wanted, I needed to know what he was about. I could have always - later. But, instead, he dragged me into life, his life. And yes, he drove me crazy, but, he, in his way, he let me heal, no. He forced me to, begin to, anyway. I began to care more about keeping his lovely, reckless arse alive than I wanted to end my own life. I didn't understand. I had never been allowed to care for anyone before. Not my own family, certainly. I didn't consider what I felt was love. I hadn't - ever been in love before, at least not the real thing - the odd crush or two, of course, nothing..."

"...to write home about?" Grace whispered. "I need some fresh tea."

"Tea. Yes, of course. Tea fixes everything, doesn't it?" John snorted. "Sorry - that was uncalled for."

"No. It doesn't and you know it doesn't. Come on, let me have it. I've been waiting."

"For what, for me to lose my temper? To tell you off? Mum - I'm nearly fifty years old. What happened back then, yeah, I wouldn't wish it on anyone, it sucked, but - I survived. And I ended up with someone who pretended to be dead for two years simply because he loved me more than - anything or anyone else. I have learned that I - I have discovered I have a penchant for forgiving the people I love. I forgive others far more easily than I have ever forgiven myself. I didn't know you. Before you came to visit that first time, I didn't know why I loved certain things, did certain things in certain ways. I've been piecing myself together these last weeks. Without - if I didn't have what I have with him," John nodded towards the upstairs bedroom. "I couldn't, if I didn't already know - if I didn't know he would always love me, always be with me, no matter what, just because he loved me, no other reason than that, I wouldn't know how -wouldn't even begin to know how to forgive you." Grace started to get to her feet again, but John reached across the desk and touched her hand. "But I have, forgiven you. Completely. Even if you haven't forgiven yourself. Because I don't know how to live any other way any more. I want to find a way to write this book, I do. It's just going to take time for me to sort myself out. Mum? Please? Look at me." Grace raised her tear-stained face to meet his eyes and he sighed. "I won't ambush you, honest. Let me turn on the kettle, hmm?"

"I don't deserve it -"

John shook his head at her as he got up from the desk and stood in front of her. "Yeah, you do. I've met really nasty, terrible people, in my life; murderers, serial bombers... those people do not deserve forgiveness, my mother does." He kissed her cheek and went into the kitchen.

 

"Here."

Sherlock rubbed his eyes as John placed his laptop into Sherlock's lap. "What - John?"

"I was going to delete it. But, I changed my mind. It - I wrote it for you, it's yours."

 

"You asked me why  
the other day, why I loved you,  
why I stayed, why I stay now.  
And I gave you a list.

It was all true, but it was  
something I had in my head,  
carried around with me  
in case you ever asked.

I didn't want you to wonder  
why  
if I paused to think about the answer.  
I wanted you to know I always,  
always think about you,  
the why  
the what  
and how of you.

But you have to know -  
time stopped, when our eyes met,  
when our fingers barely touched,  
you didn't flinch,  
but my life had rebooted.

That time, in the ambulance  
that I don't remember, but you  
can't forget, wasn't the first time  
you were there when my heart  
was restarted.

Both times, it was you,  
because of you, I am here,  
still, forever and always  
yours."

 

"I know it's -" John turned away as Sherlock finished reading it.

Sherlock looked up from the laptop, then closed it and put it aside. "Come here."

"Sherl-"

"Just come here, John, please?"

John turned from the doorway and breathed in sharply, as he saw the expression in Sherlock's eyes. "Sherlock - "

"John. The first time - when I looked over and saw you, standing there, you had mumbled something to Mike, and I - it was the first time I stopped. Luckily Molly walked in with my coffee - that bloody terrible coffee - I took a sip and I could think again, I could breathe. You changed something in me, even before I knew your name or anything about you. I didn't know what it was then, all I knew was that my life was never going to be the same. Now - I know. Some people call it love. It's a very small word for something so big." Sherlock threw his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet. "It's not nearly big enough for what you mean to me, what our life means to me."

John walked over to Sherlock and laid his hand gingerly over the dog tags, and whispered, "I know, love. Sorry - I don't know what else to call you now."

"Come back to bed, it's early. And it's raining, and I'm cold, and you, you are so very, very warm."

John snorted and pushed Sherlock gently back into bed, then quickly undressed and fell into bed next to him. "Smooth talker, you are..."

"You make me forget, John - all I know is -"

"Shhh, love, I know. I know."


End file.
